


Wreaking Havoc

by Cinlat



Series: Meet Me On The Battlefield [4]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Found Family, Friendship, General Shenanigans, Havoc Squad - Freeform, Inappropriate Humor, Lots of explosions, Mandalorian, Mando'a, Old Republic Era, Republic Trooper - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-25
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2020-10-28 04:34:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 17,286
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20772608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cinlat/pseuds/Cinlat
Summary: This is a collection of one-shots, drabbles, challenges, and micro-fics that didn't make it into the main Meet Me on the Battlefield series, but still needed to be told. The Timeline will be set somewhere in the original story content before the latest expansions. Ratings will vary and be listed at the top of each chapter, along with any possible triggers.





	1. Unwelcome Distraction (M)

**Summary:** Jorgan learns of the risks of having a married couple within the squad. 

**Notes:** So this came from a conversation on viewpoints during awkward moments and well, if you've been reading Family is More than Blood, you know by now that Jorgan is my favorite character to pick on. This piece of nonsense made me laugh, hopefully, it will you too.

**Rated:** Mature

* * *

**Coruscant  
** **Military Commando Barracks**

Captain Aric Jorgan paced his small room in the officer's wing of the barracks. Garza had grounded Fynta until she was completely healed from her wounds; it was the only way to keep the blasted woman from reinjuring herself. Technically, Jorgan and the major weren't supposed to be married, so command had given them separate quarters. To make things more difficult, Fynta's was on a completely different floor, which made Jorgan wonder if General Garza had finally caught on.

Balic and Elara, on the other hand, were legally recognized by the military as husband and wife. Elara's status as lieutenant earned them both a room right next door to Jorgan. Yuun occupied the one on the other side, while Vik had been relegated to the enlisted barracks hall.

Still, it was no surprise when someone knocked on Aric's door a little past 2300 hours. Knowing exactly who it would be, he answered wearing simple workout pants and nothing else. The ensemble had the desired effect. Fynta's eyes traveled over his body greedily before she pushed him into the room and kicked the door shut behind her.

"I thought you were confined to quarters," Jorgan asked with a raised brow as Fynta herded him deeper into the room.

"I'm a slippery one," Fynta purred, drawing a chuckle from Jorgan.

"I'll bet."

"Besides, you should really be careful answering the door like that, Captain," Fynta emphasized his rank while running skilled fingers over his chest. "There are all kinds of salacious people out this time of night."

"Just what I was looking for," Jorgan responded. "A salacious woman to fill my bed." He'd never have the way with words his wife did, but Aric was rewarded by a rough shove that carried the back of his knees into the footboard and tipped them both onto the mattress. Jorgan landed with a grunt, Fynta straddling his stomach with her hair hanging around their faces like a curtain.

Placing his hands on either side of her face, Jorgan pushed Fynta's hair out of the way and pulled his wife down for a kiss. She responded aggressively, as always, biting Jorgan's lower lip and sucking it into her mouth. Jorgan rumbled deep in his chest and flipped them over, putting himself on top and pinning Fynta's hands above her head. Generally speaking, this was a bad idea. Having sex with his commanding officer on a military base was just asking for trouble, but Fynta was impossible to deny.

Jorgan was just beginning to work Fynta's shirt over her head when he heard something next door. Pausing, he looked over his shoulder at the offending wall and waited. Nothing else happened, so Jorgan returned his attention to his wife.

A second crash interrupted him as he placed kisses down Fynta's stomach, causing Jorgan to prop up on his elbows and look around. "What the hell is that?"

A single, whispered word reached the Cathar's sharp ears. _"Balic." _The voice definitely didn't belong to his wife, meaning....Jorgan's mind slammed to a halt as he realized what was happening in the other room. The Cathar was on his feet in an instant.

"What's wrong?" Fynta asked, suddenly tense.

Jorgan glanced back at Fynta as he snatched up the tv remote, mortified by the images his mind conjured. Then, he realized that Fynta must not be able to hear what he could, which somehow made the whole situation worse. Flopping down on the end of the bed, Jorgan flipped rapidly through the channels, not really seeing any of them. Suddenly, the wall shook with greater force, finally drawing Fynta's attention.

She crawled to the end of the bed, and slipped off to pad across the floor. Another thump, followed by what sounded like the crashing of a lamp and the deep growl of a masculine voice, made Jorgan grind his teeth. Fynta's face split into a grin as she looked back at him. "Are they?"

Jorgan refused to look at her, focusing on maintaining his rapid channel switching until he realized there were only thirteen to begin with and he'd gone through them at least five times. Fynta shook her head, and pressed closer to the divider between the two rooms, smile growing when Cormac, _no, not Cormac_, the man next door, swore.

"Hey, his Mando'a is getting good," Fynta commented, ear still pressed against the wall as she cut her eyes at Jorgan. "How well can you hear that?"

At that moment, a high pitched, breathy moan emanated from the other room and Jorgan snarled. That was not Elara, a woman he'd been friends with for nearly four years. He didn't know that woman, _refused_ to. Jorgan turned up the volume and Fynta laughed.

"I'd bang on their door, but they seem to be enjoying themselves," Fynta teased as she slipped back onto the bed behind Jorgan. Her arms slid around his neck to travel over his chest and down his stomach.

Jorgan grabbed her wrists and looked back at her. "You can't be serious?"

Fynta affected a somewhat believable pout, but for the mischievous glint in her dark blue eyes. "Why should they have all the fun?" Her smile grew as she leaned forward, putting her lips close to his ear to nip at the tip. "What do you say, should we show them how it's done?" Her hands slid lower and Jorgan shot to his feet, nearly tipping Fynta off the bed.

Cormac started making strangled demands and Jorgan began seriously considering whether or not his ears were necessary to do his job. Throwing an annoyed look at his wife, who found this far too amusing for his liking, the Cathar stalked into the refresher and started the shower. Maybe a long, hot soak would give the couple next door time to finish their-quality time. Not to mention the noise from the water should drown out all the other sounds. A trip to the cantina, or anywhere, would be preferable, but it was after curfew. Jorgan was stuck.

He'd just finished folding his pants on the counter when Fynta slipped into the bathroom. "Want some company?"

Jorgan turned to grumble some noncommittal answer and stopped short. Fynta had already removed the rest of her clothing and in that moment, the unwelcomed distraction from earlier was forgotten. "Definitely."

It didn't take long for Jorgan to press Fynta through the spray of water and into the cold tile behind. She gasped at the contrast between the heat from their bodies and the chill of the rest of the shower, arching into him. Jorgan rumbled his desire as he slipped his hands under her and lifted his wife, letting Fynta wrap her legs around his waist while his teeth grazed her skin. Jorgan's hand slipped off her slick skin once when Fynta leaned forward, forcing him to slam her backward to keep from dropping her.

That motion brought back the memory of the reason he was in this shower in the first place and the whispered name of his closest friend rang in Jorgan's ears. It was enough to kill the mood for the second time that night.

"Damn it," Jorgan griped, letting his wife's legs drop gently back to the floor.

"Can you still hear them?" Fynta asked, wiping water from her face, yet still managing a smile.

Jorgan sighed. "Some things can't be unheard."

Fynta chuckled and the two settled for enjoying each other's company, Jorgan carrying the conversation in an attempt to avoid thinking about the events in the next room. Finally, after a time that he deemed long enough for the other room to have quieted, and the hot water ran out, Jorgan shut off the faucet decided sleep sounded good enough.

As soon as Aric opened the refresher door, he regretted it. The sound of the squeaking mattress left little to the imagination. The grunts from the man had grown loud enough for even Fynta to hear through the too thin partitions, though Jorgan wasn't sure if she was aware Elara's ragged gasps.

Jorgan groaned as he crossed the room and began throwing items into his rucksack. Fynta stood behind him, staring at the wall where the noises originated, with hand on hips. "Wow, it's like after Tavis's ship all over again. You've got to give the man props for his stamina."

The Cathar growled again, Cormac's stamina was neither of their business.

Fynta returned her attention to Jorgan and tilted her head. "What are you doing?"

He was aware that Fynta had already removed her bra and put on PTs to sleep in, but it didn't matter. Mostly because he could tell that the two in the next room were reaching their limits and that was one thing Jorgan simply couldn't stand to be privy to.

Snatching up his bag, Jorgan grabbed Fynta's wrist as he headed for the door. "We're going to your room."

Elara chose that moment to cry out Balic's name and Jorgan shoved Fynta out into the hallway. "Right now."


	2. Tacky Negligence (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things hadn't quite gone as planned since Aric Jorgan took charge of that op on Ord Mantell. This was just one more thing to add to the growing list of humiliating experiences he’d suffered in the presence of Lieutenant Fynta Wolfe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a oneshot inspired by the complaints that followed when I yanked a Band-Aid off someone, instead of being "gentle". Of course, that got me thinking about how awful it would have been had there been fur involved. So, I hope you enjoy this little bit of nonsense. I certainly did.
> 
> Written in a day just for fun. Barely edited. haha
> 
> Story timeline: Somewhere between Taris and Alderaan in Act 1.

**Rated: T**

* * *

**3643 BBY**   
**Coruscant Spaceport  
** **The Thunderclap**

Jorgan stood in Fynta's room in nothing but his shorts and an undershirt. The Cathar swore as Fynta tugged on the fabric that covered his thigh. "Be careful with that," he growled, breath hitching.

"Stop being such a baby," Fynta teased from where she knelt before him. Jorgan rumbled a warning in his throat as she reached for him again, which only served to amuse her more. Fynta's fingers closed around the material, and she grinned up at him. "Ready?" Taking a deep breath, the Cathar grasped the desk in her room, then nodded his preparedness.

Closing his eyes, Jorgan waited in nervous anticipation for Fynta to make her move. When she finally did, he couldn't stop the shout that tore through him. When he opened his eyes again, Fynta was still grinning, holding a piece of tape that had a lot of his fur attached to it. The lieutenant looked at it, then leaned closer than he'd like to examine where his leg still stung.

Taking a steadying breath, Jorgan grumbled. "What kind of idiot puts adhesive bandages on a Cathar?"

Fynta leaned back and sighed. "Well, the guy admitted to having never treated Cathar before." Jorgan snarled in annoyance, and Fynta held up her hands. "Foerost doesn't get many visitors, they are mostly human. Next time, don't mess with unexploded ordnance."

Jorgan's only answer was a dramatic eye roll. "I wasn't the one who touched the damn thing."

"Oh, right," Fynta said with a smile as she tapped a finger against her chin. Jorgan sighed, at least she hadn't made any inappropriate comments about his state of undress. _Yet._

The lieutenant slapped her hands on her thighs and pushed to up, still examining the tan hair on the adhesive strip. "This isn't working, we need to try something else."

"Wish Dorne were here," Jorgan muttered as Fynta disappeared into the main room. Foerost was supposed to be a simple mission, something the two of them could handle while the medic was in a class on Coruscant. The mission had been easy enough. It was landing on a rusted pile of ship parts that had put Jorgan in his current predicament. That dud bomb turned out to be not as much as dead as they thought. The armor had held up, except for a small sliver that found its way between two joints and into Jorgan's leg.

The Cathar flopped into the desk chair, and ran a finger over the thin line of bare skin midway up his thigh. To her credit, Fynta had tried removing the bandages gently at first, then they'd decided maybe it would be better to rip the damn things off. Unfortunately, the injured area was dangerously close to some highly sensitive skin. So, maybe he was being a baby.

Fynta returned with a pair of scissors, snipping them playfully, while Jorgan ground his teeth at the sound of metal scraping metal. "Up and at'em, soldier," she said, motioning for him to stand.

Jorgan grumbled behind clenched teeth as she took her place on the floor again. He knew the thoughts running through her mind just by the smirk on her face, even if she didn't give voice to them. The Cathar grabbed her wrist as she lifted the shears against his leg. "Be. Careful."

Again, the lieutenant flashed a cheeky grin. "Trust me," she purred, patting his other leg. Jorgan released her, and Fynta set about the task of gliding the edge of the blade down his thigh, while he remained absolutely motionless.

It took almost an hour, and a lot more swearing on both of their parts, to finally remove the rest of the wrapping. The doctor had been thorough, wrapping the wound five times. Even Fynta had been over the ordeal by the end, apologizing as more fur was ripped painfully from his leg. Finally, Jorgan threw himself in the chair again to examine the damage.

"I'm sure it will grow back," Fynta assured him with a gentle pat on the shoulder. "I wouldn't suggest strutting around the ship naked any time soon, though."

"Ha, ha, ha," Jorgan replied, still glaring at the bald patches and inflamed skin on his leg. Running both hands down his face, the Cathar silently cursed himself for not realizing sooner what the doctor was doing. He'd just finished cleaning his weapons and armor, and begun getting into his fatigues, when Jorgan figured out that the bandages wouldn't budge. Then, he'd been forced to seek out Fynta's aid, adding this to the growing list of humiliating experiences he'd suffered in the presence of Lieutenant Fynta Wolfe. She'd had a good laugh, until she too observed just how well the glue was holding.

The hiss from the airlock brought Jorgan out from behind his hands. "Sir, I've returned," Elara called. "It was a fascinating lecture, I learned quite a b- on my."

Dorne stopped with one hand on the doorframe and simply stared at Jorgan, who realized he was still sitting in Fynta's room in his underwear. Her eyes traveled from him, to the pile of discarded bandages on the floor, then to Jorgan's leg. "What happened?"

Before he could protest, Elara was on her knees, cold fingers on his bare skin. Normally, the temperature of her hands wouldn't have been a problem, except he no longer had the protective layer of fur to lessen the shock. Jorgan jumped.

"Sorry, Jorgan," Elara said without looking up. She prodded at his wound, now no more than a red line stretching from just below his groin to mid-thigh. Yet, it somehow didn't have the same unnerving effect on the Cathar as when it had been Fynta. Jorgan attributed that to the fact that Elara was a professional physician, and Fynta was, well, _Fynta_.

"He got a scrape down on Foerost, and the doctor used the wrong kind of bandages," the lieutenant explained, arms crossed while she leaned against the door.

The medic cast a sympathetic glance at Jorgan. "Oh, how awful." She sat back, brows furrowed, and looked back at Fynta. "Why didn't you use the dissolvent in the medbay?"

A look passed between Fynta and Jorgan, and the lieutenant's expression morphed into one of complete shock as she took a step back. "The what?"

Before Dorne could answer, Jorgan snarled, grabbing the closest thing to him, and hurling it at his commanding officer. She ducked out with a shouted apology as the boot sailed into the main room. Jorgan would apologize for that later. Maybe.


	3. BOOM (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Vik and Cormac put their heads together on a new project, Havoc Squad usually reap the benefits. However, getting to that point can be a little . . . explosive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a gift fic for DimiGex, who wanted more bro moments involving Cormac, Vik, and explosives. I simply couldn't resist a request like that. So I stayed up way too late writing it.

**Rated: T**

* * *

Cormac's head snapped forward when Vik smacked him. "Shut up, you wanna' wake up the boss?"

"It wasn't me," Cormac protested, desperately trying to shut the C2-N2 droid up. He and Vik knelt on the floor beside the protocol droid in the cargo bay. The blasted thing had come on, demanding to know what they were doing, and if he could be of service. Balic jammed his pliers into the servos in the back of the droid's chassis, and the eye lights flickered out.

Cheeks puffed out as Balic sat back on his heels. "I thought we disabled him."

Vik muttered in a language that Cormac didn't catch and bent back to his task. Generally speaking, the two soldiers preferred not to work on this sort of thing when Jorgan and Elara were around. Fynta usually encouraged them, as long as it wasn't on the ship. They were walking the edge of the blade by working on this project aboard the Thunderclap.

In their defense, Havoc squad had been floating around Wild Space for seven weeks, and there was absolutely nothing to do. So, Vik and Cormac tinkered. The Weequay had come up with a brilliant new idea for cleaner burning flashbang grenades. A brighter light, louder concussion, but less smoke to disorient the user. The only problem being, they didn't have all the components he needed, and Fynta had made them offload most of their raw material to ensure they followed her rules.

Cormac had remembered that older droids used Zypolene lubricant on their joints, and while C2 was up to date on all his programming, his body style definitely qualified as older. Zypolene had been recalled a few years earlier due to health hazards to certain species. However, Cormac wagered there was a chance that the droid still had enough in its nooks and crannies for what they needed. If mixed with the right cleaning agent, Zypolene could, theoretically, become volatile.

The two soldiers worked silently in a dark corner of the cargo hold. Cormac held the light, while Vik loosened the fasteners on the gleaming frame. In a few minutes, the Weequay lifted the chest plate away, shoving it at Cormac.

"Shabuir," the big man muttered, shaking out the fingers that Vik had jammed against the metal. He put the casing aside, then leaned over with the light.

"Well," Vik nodded towards the inner workings of their protocol droid. "This was your idea."

Cormac bit back his smart assed reply, settling instead for a glare as he handed Vik the light. Taking a deep breath, the sergeant crammed his hand between the gears. "We need someone with smaller hands," he grunted as the sharp edges of metal cogs bit into his skin.

"Feel free to wake the major. I'm sure she wouldn't mind helping," Vik snorted. "And hurry up."

"You want to give it a try?" Cormac shot back. The process of locating the joints most likely to still be coated with remnants of Zypolene lubricant was slow going. They would be located in the hard to clean areas, making it more difficult for Cormac to get to as well. Twice, he thought his hand was truly stuck, and had to wiggle his fingers side to side to find better access.

Finally, something slimy slid over Cormac's fingertips. The big man rubbed two digits together, paying close attention to its texture. Modern droid lubricant had a smooth, oily nature, whereas Zypolene was thicker. What Cormac felt had grit embedded in it from years of dust collection, and sat heavily on the pads of his fingers.

Carefully, the man pulled back, keeping his fingers curled to avoid losing his hard won bounty. The last thing he wanted to do was dive back in for more. By the time he'd extracted his hand, the cuts had begun to sting wherever the Zypolene touched.

"Nice," Vik murmured in a gravelly voice that oozed with satisfaction. The Weequay grabbed Cormac's wrist to examine the black sludge, then directed it over a piece of wax paper, giving Cormac's arm a rough shake.

"Could've asked nicely," the man grumbled, pulling his arm out of Vik's grasp. The Weequay shrugged, bending closer to sniff at the goo, while Cormac searched for something to clean his hands. A grin crossed his face when he realized that the back of Vik's shirt would do just fine.

The Weequay shot up as Cormac turned his hands over a couple of times, wiping them down Vik's back. "You didn't bring any rags," Cormac explained, wiggling his still grimy fingers with a grin. "I had to make due."

Vik rolled his eyes. "You're buying me a new shirt. Now, come on."

Moving to their somewhat controlled workspace, Cormac poured the deck cleaner into a bowl while Vik scraped the Zypolene in with a plastic spatula. He mixed the two in slow, methodical circles, folding the ingredients together as one would a cake. Meanwhile, Cormac held his breath. Once the mixture had transformed into a thick paste, Vik straightened with a relieved sigh.

"Good work, mate," Cormac said, slapping Vik on the shoulder. The Weequay narrowed his eyes, then glanced over his shoulder to make sure nothing else had been wiped on his shirt. Cormac chuckled and held his hands out.

"Get the container," the Weequay groused.

Cormac squatted to pull a lockbox from under their makeshift workbench, coming up with an aluminium tube. The small, silver cylinder should only hold enough of the mixture to produce a small flash, no brighter than the light from a holovid recorder. But, it would give them a jumping-off point for the real thing.

"I need a pinch of beryllium powder." Vik held out his hand to Cormac, fingers twitching in impatience.

"Are you sure about that?" Beryllium was temperamental enough on its own, which is why Havoc carried it in powder form instead of liquid. Adding it into the untested mixture under Vik's hands was asking for trouble.

Vik turned disdainful grey eyes on Cormac. "Who's the genius here?" Cormac snorted. "Just give me the damn powder."

Cormac did as asked and took a step back. A few more adjustments later, and Vik screwed on the cap. "She's going to be a beauty."

"Now we just need a way to test it," Cormac responded, moving closer when the device didn't explode. "You made this one underpowered, right?"

"This wouldn't blind a wamp rat on a moonless night," Vik assured. Then, the Weequay looked around with a grin. "Think we're far enough away?"

Cormac mentally calculated the distance to the commanders' closed door, not to mention Elara's. Then, factored in the probability that sound wouldn't carry that well from the back of the ship to the front. If Vik had done his job correctly, then there was a chance that no one would be the wiser to their little experiment. Cormac matched Vik's expression, and nodded towards the far corner. "Let's find out."

Ignoring common sense completely, the two soldiers situated a couple of crates and tables to provide a suitable barrier. They even donned goggles to be on the safe side. Ducking behind the table, Vik did a three count, then lobed the improvised flash grenade into the back corner of the cargo bay.

As soon as the device went off, Cormac knew they were in deep shit. He instinctively squeezed his eyes shut to the searing brightness just before the pressure wave hit him. The sergeant felt weightless, giving his mind a split second to consider just how badly they'd screwed up, then hit the wall in the hallway with teeth jarring force.

The first of Cormac's addled senses to return was smell, acrid and choking. Forcing his eyes open, the scene that greeted him made his stomach lurch. The cargo hold was on fire, which was a _really_ bad thing out in space. The next thing he noted was the sound of running, and the furious swearing as Fynta and Jorgan darted past, extinguishers in hand.

Vik sprawled on his face next to Cormac and groaned. "I think we overdid it on the beryllium," the Weequay mumbled into the floor, making no effort to get up to help rein in the chaos they'd caused.

"Balic," Elara breathed, her voice shaking with suppressed anger. "What did you do?"

"That, apparently," Cormac responded without thinking, waving vaguely at where the commanders battled the blaze.

Eventually, Jorgan wrapped an arm around the major's waist to pull her out of the cargo hold and punched the hatch seal panel. "It's no use, Fynta." With a growl, Fynta slammed her fist into the wall, then opened the bay doors. Everything, the fire and all of their cargo, including the droid, was snatched into the void beyond.

"What the shab?" She shouted, hands out to her sides as she rounded on the sergeants. "Fierfek, Vik, you're on fire."

Fynta lunged at the same time as Elara, both women yanking the Weequay's shirt off him and tossing it to the floor. Somehow, it must have come in contact with their chemical mixture. When they couldn't stamp out the flame, Elara kicked it into the airlock and shut the door.

The major began the pressurization procedure, then rubbed both hands on her temples. "Dorne?"

"Neither appear to be seriously injured," Elara reported in a tight voice. Balic did his best to avoid either of the women's attention. Fynta loomed over him, one tanned leg, and one silver planted shoulder width apart while she glared with hands on hips. A quick glance revealed that she must be wearing Jorgan's shirt, because the Cathar had his arms crossed over his bare chest. Elara, professional as ever, wore her standard sleepwear of PT pants and a loose shirt.

"Vik has minor burns on his back," his wife continued, "And Balic might have a mild concussion." Cormac winced at the lack of compassion in her voice.

"So," Fynta began. "Nothing that would keep them cleaning up this mess?" Balic peeked at Elara in time to see her shake her head.

The major nodded, crossing her arms. "Fine. I want you two suited up and locked into position in ten minutes. You get to try out our new deep space repair suits, because I'll be damned if I'm going to lose those ammo crates."

The sergeants managed a muffled, _yes'sir_, before both slid back to the floor. Vik chuckled after everyone left, and Cormac cast an incredulous glare at the Weequay. "Next time, we'll use less beryllium."

Cormac groaned and flopped over on his side, wondering where he'd sleep for the next few nights. There wasn't a chance in all seven Corellian hells that Elara would let him back into their room any time soon.


	4. One Whole Year (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One whole year. Balic Cormac checked his reflection in the mirror. His face and head were freshly shaved, and he wore his best pair of fatigues. No holes or stains in this set, they were for special occasions. He had a date with his girl, and he couldn't wait to see her face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A birthday fic for Cipher_the_9th, who asked for more Cormac/Elara romance. Hope it's all you were hoping for, I need to go brush my teeth after all this sweetness. haha. Seriously though, I had so much fun with this.

**Rated: G**

* * *

**The Thunderclap**

Balic Cormac checked his reflection in the mirror. His face and head were freshly shaved, and he wore his best pair of fatigues. No holes or stains in this set, they were for special occasions. Granted, on a night like this, owning a proper civilian suit wouldn't be so bad. Then Cormac reminded himself that he wouldn't know what to do with it. His dress uniform was bad enough.

_One year._ Cormac let out a low whistle. He'd never stayed in a relationship that long, but Elara Dorne had come along and changed everything. The big man leaned closer to mirror, curious if he looked any different after a year in Havoc Squad; after a year as a married man. He was practically nose to nose with the glass when the 'fresher door swung open. Cormac jumped away from his reflection with a decidedly unmasculine shriek.

"Did I interrupt something?" Jorgan ask, hand still propped against the open door. He'd paused with one foot over the threshold, and a legitimate smirk on his furry lips.

"You just startled me, is all," Cormac protested weakly. When Jorgan's lips threatened to curve higher, Balic went on the offensive. "You got it, or what?"

The Cathar chuckled, letting the door shut behind him. "Yeah, although keeping this from Fynta was a pain. I never realized how much she tinkered with this ship until I needed a hiding spot."

Cormac snorted. "Don't I know it." Fynta had found all of his and Vik's stashes of combustibles for when they felt like being imaginative. Half the time, he figured she'd accidentally stumbled across them, no matter how good the woman wanted them to think she was.

Jorgan held out a small, black box. "Well, have fun, and make good use of it."

"You know I will," Balic responded with a grin, accepting the parcel and tucking it in his left breast pocket. He had a date with his girl tonight, and he couldn't wait to see her face.

**Havoc Medbay**

Elara tapped the screen on her datapad, finishing up the last report before her anniversary dinner with Balic. It was surreal when she considered that she'd been his wife for a year now. They'd been through so much in such a short matter of time.

Being Imperial born while serving in the Republic military had always been a romantic death sentence in Elara's mind. Who would want to throw their lot in with a traitor? Who could possibly trust her enough to learn to love her?

Then, Elara had met Havoc Squad, and by extension, Balic Cormac. He'd accomplished that impossible task in such a short amount of time that it made her previous fear seem laughable. Elara sighed when she put the datapad aside to check her makeup one last time in the mirror.

"Uh, oh," Fynta's reflection grinned back at her. "I know that look. You're feeling nostalgic." The commander leaned against the doorway with her arms crossed and a cheeky grin fixed on her features.

"I was considering how different my life could be, yes," Elara admitted. It was only natural on important days, to think about the path that lead an individual to such an important decision.

The major pushed off the doorframe to cross the room. "And?"

Fynta busied herself with Elara's hair, which the medic tolerated simply because she didn't know what else to do with it aside from her normal bun. "I'm quite pleased with the results."

The major smirked as she gave Elara's pale hair a tug, releasing the locks from their bonds. "I think down would be good for tonight. You're already wearing civvies, might as well go all the way."

While the two women weren't of the same body type, some of Fynta's more revealing clothing fit the medic well enough to be suitable for her outing with Balic. Where the brown pants and navy blue shirt might have appeared risqué on the major, they draped comfortably over the Elara's smaller frame. After a few seconds, Fynta had wrapped Elara's hair into a half tail with spiky strands sticking out in decorative directions.

Elara examined her new look in the mirror, then flicked her eyes at Fynta. When the major nodded, Elara sighed and accepted that she could always change it later if need be. "Oh, almost forgot."

Fynta tugged a small, red box from her bra strap and held it out. "You wouldn't believe how difficult it was to keep this hidden. Jorgan has been unusually attentive lately. He wouldn't let me go anywhere on the ship alone." The major snorted a tired laugh. "Now that I'm no longer responsible for it, I'm going to get some rest without worrying about Jorgan's hand placement."

"Thank you, sir," Elara responded, slipping her gift into her jacket pocket. This one was her own, at least. The black SpecForce cover wouldn't detract too seriously from the overall look. "I appreciate your effort."

Fynta waved her off with a yawn and headed for the door. "Have fun, Dorne. Don't do anything I wouldn't." Elara raised an eyebrow at the major's retreating back. That hardly narrowed the list down.

**Carrick Station  
VIP Room**

Cormac had heard this place was one of the nicest in the galaxy. It had taken calling in quite a few favors to get into the VIP restaurant above the main cantina, but he'd managed. As Balic sat across from his wife, he couldn't help but feel like the luckiest bloke in the galaxy. Elara chattered on in breathy excitement about something he was too dumb to comprehend, but the fact that it meant so much to her was good enough. Balic nodded and made accenting noises in all the right places, and even chuckled when warranted.

Suddenly, Elara looked up from her plate with pink tinged cheeks. "I'm sorry, I've probably bored you to death."

This time, Cormac's laughter was authentic as he reached across the table to take her hand. "Doll, you are many things, but boring has never been one of them." His wife's cheeks turned full on crimson, the color made more prominent by her pale complexion.

Sitting at the table, with the classical music in the background, and her beautifully embarrassed by his compliment, made the atmosphere perfect. He reached into his breast pocket to retrieve the item that Jorgan had kept safe for him for nearly three weeks. "Hey, I got you something."

Elara's head tipped a fraction to the side as she watched his hand open to reveal the small, black box. "We've been married a year now, and I thought it was high time that the rest of the galaxy knew you were off limits."

Balic let the box rest in the palm of his hand, using the other to lift the lid. The hinges creaked from lack of use, drawing the attention of the patrons at the next table. Cormac ignored them, focusing on what he hoped would be his wife's joyous expression. "Happy Anniversary, doll."

"Oh, Balic," Elara breathed, her hand extended, only to draw back again. Inside sat two cogs left over from the last time he'd helped Yuun fix the Thunderclap's engine. Cormac had the pieces smoothed and fitted into a set of rings. They couldn't wear them on duty, of course, there was too much of a chance of losing a finger that way, but Balic figured around their tags would suffice.

"Do you like them?" Something about Elara's expression worried Cormac. She looked . . . amused. Then, his wife started laughing, just a light giggle that she quickly covered with her hand, but it was enough to confuse the hell out of him.

Elara met his eyes, then quickly sobered herself. "They are perfect, Balic. Beautiful, really." Cormac watched, dumbfounded, as his wife reached into her pocket and presented him with a velvety, red box roughly the same size and shape as the one in his hands.

It took a few seconds for the implications to sink in. Cormac's laughter boomed through the restaurant, drawing the attention of a few more tables. He plucked the box from Elara's hand and flipped the lid open to find a set of wedding bands. "What are they made of?" He managed between chuckles.

"I hope you aren't angry, but I repurposed the wiring that you made the Project B model with." Elara kept her hands under the table, meaning she was wringing her knuckles to keep from sounding nervous. "I worried about it getting lost, and you worked so hard on it. So, I thought that perhaps there could be a way to keep it with me at all times."

Balic snapped both boxes shut and grinned at his wife. "How could I possibly be mad about a thing like that?"

The lady at the next table leaned over to congratulate them, and a few other patrons, along with the waiter, offered complimentary drinks. As thankful as Balic was, the restaurant suddenly felt too crowded. This was his anniversary date, and Cormac wanted nothing more than to spend it somewhere quiet with the only woman that mattered. He politely declined the drinks, paid their tab, and stood to offer Elara his arm. "Come on, doll. Let's make tonight count."

**Star of Coruscant:  
Officer's Inn**

Elara kept her hands folded over Balic's arm. He had both sets of wedding bands in one hand, still chuckling to himself about the irony of their gifts. Pushing through the door to a nice hotel, Balic checked them in and called the lift. Once inside, he took a deep breath, slipping both sets of rings into his pocket. "You and I are one of a kind, Elara."

"Yes," she stated. "I imagine we are." After all, there couldn't be too many married couples within SpecForce comprised of an ex-Imperial officer, and an ex captain from Alderaan. Balic huffed another laugh and patted her hand, leading Elara to realize that hadn't been what he meant at all.

Elara remained silent to hide her embarrassment, although she should be over that by now. Even after a year, Balic still managed to tear down her protective walls, leaving her emotions bare. It benefitted their relationship that he was so good at reading people. Allowing an openness between them that Elara hadn't experienced with other partners. Balic always knew when to be gentle, and he never used her social awkwardness against her.

"This is us." Balic slipped the keycard in. The door vanished into a side panel to reveal a tastefully decorated room. It contained a large bed in the middle, an elegant desk, and a pair of sliding doors leading onto a balcony. Though what she could possibly want to see off it confounded Elara

When Balic flipped on the light, another amenity caught Elara's attention. "Is that—"

"Yep," her husband responded with a grin. "I found us a room with a water-jet tub. Not bad, eh?" Brown eyes darkened with desire when they met Elara's. "I plan to take full advantage of it, too."

"Naturally," she responded, pulling a deeper chuckled from him.

Balic unbuttoned his jacket and tossed it onto the bed. "First thing's first." He knelt before Elara, both boxes in his hand. "We've got to do this right, after all." Judging by the grin on his face, Elara guessed that he was having a go at her. "Elara Dorne-Cormac, it's been the happiest year of my life. Would you do me the honor of staying by my side forever?"

Even though the line was delivered partially in jest, Elara heard the sincerity in her husband's words, and couldn't fight the tears burning her eyes. "There is nowhere else I'd rather be."

Balic grabbed her hand and slipped both rings, rough cog and smooth filament alike, onto her finger. "We might need to figure out a way to combine these. Otherwise, your tags will give you a neck ache." Elara took his face, almost at height with her own even while he remained on his knees, and kissed him.

"I believe we can worry about that at a later date." After securing the rings on Balic's finger in return, he slid his arms around her waist. "There are better ways to spend our time now."

"I'm all yours, doll," Balic responded. "Just tell me what you want."

Elara had never been able to speak when he looked at her like that. Balic's dark eyes, the knowing smirk on his lips, and the sudden intake of breath when she pulled his shirt free, encompassed her entire world. There were no problems that needed solving, enemies to conquer, or articles to write. Just her husband, and he knew what she wanted.

Balic slid his hands to rest on Elara's backside, guiding her legs to straddle his. "Hold on to me," he whispered.

Elara wrapped her arms around her husband's neck as he stood, lifting her with ease. Even with the bed only a few steps away, Balic remained where he was, supporting her weight while showering her with hungry kisses.

When Balic toppled them onto the bed, he let Elara fall free so that he could catch himself to avoid crushing her. When she looked into his eyes, they were tender, and so full of love, that she couldn't bear the thought of life without him.

Soon, the race began to remove one another's clothing, always so frantic to begin with, but more controlled in their actual lovemaking. Balic was a patient partner, listening for cues, trying new things to bring Elara more pleasure. This was the one area of her life where the normally concise medic gave up all control. Logical thoughts failed her whenever she was with Balic. He fulfilled her in ways she'd never imagined possible, and he derived completion from that knowledge.

As they lay sweat soaked and panting in one another's arms, Balic nuzzled Elara's neck. He trailed feather soft kisses over her shoulder, her lips, everywhere, while she basked in exhausted bliss. "Now, _that's_ how to celebrate an anniversary," he murmured against her ear.

Elara shivered, dragging a husky laugh from her husband. As the post coital fog began to fade, a thought occurred to Elara. "Where did you hide the rings?"

Balic shifted off of her, fixing the sheets around them, then pulled Elara to his chest. "Oh, I had Jorgan hold onto them for me. Said he had a hell of a time keeping Fynta from finding them."

Elara erupted into laughter so suddenly that Balic pulled back to give her an incredulous stare. "Forgive me, it's just," she had to pause to snigger more, barely able to get the sentence out. "I'd ask Fynta to keep mine safe. She said Jorgan wouldn't leave her alone long enough to properly hide them." More laughter. "She had to keep them in her pocket for two weeks."

Though Balic's laughter wasn't quite as boisterous, Elara heard it echo through his chest. He brought her closer with a gentle tug and pressed a kiss to the top of her hair. "Think we should tell them?"

Elara's mirth settled into a few disconnected giggles. "Maybe, but not tonight." Draping her arm over Balic's broad chest, she sighed in contentment, letting her eyes drift shut. "They can wait until morning."

"Too right," Balic replied in a sleep heavy voice. He took a deep breath, his next words riding on the exhale. "Happy anniversary, doll."


	5. Diversionary Tactics (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aric Jorgan is NOT a kitten. His hatred of the rain is perfectly normal, and he'll not broker jokes from anyone, especially his wife. Meanwhile, Fynta dips into her wealth of diversionary tactics to settle the grumpy Cathar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The was written for a Tumblr prompt for Caught in a storm. I chose Jorgan and Fynta as the duo because I'll never pass up an opportunity to poke a little fun at the grumpy space cat.

“I hate rain,” Jorgan groused. The Cathar ran a vigorous hand over his head to scatter the collected water droplets. His scowl deepened when he finally met Fynta’s gaze. “Don’t look so smug.”

Fynta’s grin stretched further as she palmed the door shut. “Look at it this way, at least now I have a reason to get you out of those clothes.” She ran an admiring eye over the way the material clung to his body.

“This wouldn’t have happened with fatigues,” Aric grumbled, grabbing his shirt between two fingers and peeling it away. The damp material made an unpleasant suctioning sound, then snapped back into place.

Jorgan sighed. “How is it that you avoided being drenched?”

Fynta bit her lip to stifle the laughter that she knew her husband wouldn’t appreciate. She’d gotten under a market awning soon enough to avoid the worst of the deluge. So had a large portion of the customers in the market, leaving Aric hovering at the edge. His body had blocked the worst of the weather from hers. No matter how much it amused her, Fynta tried not to find too much humor at her husband’s expense. She absolutely avoided comparing his hatred of the rain with the domesticated species that people so often referred to him as.

As penance for avoiding the rain, Fynta palmed open the door to their first floor hotel room and stepping into the storm. Jorgan darted after her, his fingers sliding from her now slick skin. For good measure, Fynta held her arms out and turned a few circles before finally surrendering to the curses of her husband.

When Jorgan closed the door again, Fynta met his annoyed grumble with a kiss. It served to startle him out of calling her a nuisance, at least. Then, she stepped back to display her handy work. “There, now we’re even.”

Fynta’s hair dripped down her back, culminating in a puddle on the floor. Her shoes were soaked through, and a chill crept over her skin from the environmentals that cooled their room. It was the clingy fabric that drew Aric’s attention, though. Fynta saw the heat in his eyes as he scanned her attire.

Without tearing his gaze from her body, Jorgan nodded. “I think you’re right.” Fynta raised an eyebrow when her husband finally met her eyes. “We should get out of these clothes.”

Later, with the lights off and heater cranked up, Aric and Fynta watched the wind whip rain and debris through the streets outside. The weather forecast claimed that it would last for another few hours, urging people to stay indoors.

Fynta snuggled closer to Aric while he absently ran his fingers through her hair. “It’s a good thing we have leftovers,” he rumbled beneath Fynta’s cheek. “I just got a notice that housekeeping and room service have been delayed until after the storm.

Fynta hummed in agreement, not truly listening to anything except the soothing octave of Aric’s voice. She ran her nails across his chest and stomach, eliciting a contented purr. Something thumped against the outer wall, and Jorgan tensed beneath her. “Udesiir, riduur,” Fynta breathed, tightening her arms around his middle. Aric settled again, and she let her eyes drift shut to the soothing ambiance of thunder and rain. For now, in the center of this storm, all was well with the galaxy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando'a:  
Udesiir, riduur - literally translated "calm yourself, husband"


	6. Repeat Offenders (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Balic and Fynta are at it again, making trouble and living life at full tilt. Much to Aric and Elara's chagrin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Choice: 418
> 
> Written in response to the Tumblr Prompt "Broken Glass". Mostly because these two are the most destructive people I know. And, I love them.

**Rated: G**

* * *

**The Thunderclap**

Fynta smacked the wall, her elbow connecting with Cormac’s shoulder while he tried to pin her in place. She couldn’t remember what had started the scuffle this time. Someone had been a smart ass, the other reacted with a challenge, and things evolved as usual. Aric and Elara fussed every time she and Balic got into a wrestling match. Fynta figured it was because the two stiffs didn’t know how to properly unwind.

Cormac lifted Fynta on his shoulder, and she slapped the top of his bald head with a resounding clap. The big man cursed and flipped Fynta over the couch in the middle of the ship, causing her foot to clip the new shelf that Elara had installed. The sound of shattering glass pierced through Fynta’s revelry before she hit the floor.

Balic leaped over the sofa to land uncomfortably close to Fynta’s face. He cursed, running a hand over his head. Fynta rolled up to her knees and winced at the mess they’d made. “Elara’s going to kill me,” Cormac breathed. “This one hasn’t even been up a full week.”

Fynta nudged at the broken glass. “Maybe we can fix it before she notices.” Balic gave her a droll stare, not unlike the one his wife often wore. Fynta held up her hands in defeat. “Okay, fine, what it your brilliant plan?”

“Throw myself at the mercy of an angry, ex-Imperial.” Cormac puffed air through his lips, then looked to Fynta. She shrugged, and he cursed again.

Fynta opened her mouth to suggest that they get started cleaning when the airlock hissed and Elara’s accented tones drifted up the hall. She rounded the corner before either could do anything more than use their bodies to block the mess.

Elara chattered away at Yuun, eyes never leaving her datapad. She crossed the main room, not bothering to greet her husband or best friend, who stood shoulder to shoulder. Cormac had just released a long breath when his wife poked her head back into the room. One, pale blonde eyebrow lifted. “What are you two up to?”

“Nothing.” “Missing you.”

Fynta and Cormac spoke simultaneously, then shared a guilty look. Elara started to exit the medbay, then stopped. Fynta could see the conflict playing out in her mind, whether it would be worth the headache to represent them again. Or pretend that she hadn’t noticed. Finally, the medic shook her head. “Whatever it is, just fix it.” Elara vanished again, and Fynta grinned at Balic’s stricken expression.


	7. Jaws of Defeat (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fynta is three men down in a battle for galactic survival against an unknown enemy. Shields are low, and everything lies on the line.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was for the Tumblr Prompt "Don't die on me--Please." I took some creative liberties with it, and laughed entirely too much at my own characters.  
Word Count: 706

Rated: G

* * *

Fynta’s pod groaned under the pressure of another hit. A warning flashed in the top, left-hand side of her screen that her shields were down to thirty percent. The dots cluttering Fynta’s radar scattered like a swarm of insects while she tried to stay alive. Their objective was in sight, all she needed was a clear shot.

“Uh, boss.” Cormac’s voice echoed through the cramped cockpit, and Fynta glanced to her right to find his beacon on the nav-screen. “I’ve got four on my tail, and I can’t shake them.”

Fynta jerked the steering column in her friend’s direction, only to be cut off by half a dozen bogies. She snarled and veered off course, pulling them in her wake. “You’re going to have to manage, big guy. I’ve got my own issues.”

Cormac cursed. “I don’t think I’m going to make it.”

Fynta glanced at the radar to find that her own situation unchanged. “Don’t you die on me, soldier!” Only silence met Fynta’s command, and she swore a string oaths that would have made her father proud. She’d already lost Aric and Vik, Cormac had been her last man standing.

Checking her fighter’s ammo supply, Fynta set the blasters to automatic and charged straight through the line of drones protecting the Mothership. Her shields dropped faster than Elara in a Mandalorian drinking game. Fynta knew that she’d have to fire the ion torpedoes now, or risk blowing the entire mission.

The drone directly before her exploded in a soundless fireball, and Fynta fired her entire payload. “Go on.” She willed the four blips on her screen to break through the main shielding.

“Shield at five percent,” the onboard AI offered. Fynta ignored it, fixated on the final white dot that inched closer to her target.

“Please.” It was going to make it, Fynta could feel it.

Fynta’s pod went dark and dropped so fast that her stomach rolled. She stared at the blackness, unable to accept such a crushing defeat. The door hissed, and light flooded the small compartment, followed by Cormac’s face. “Better luck next time.”

Curling her lip, and Fynta intentionally ignored the large, flashing GAME OVER sign on the screen as she clambered back into the overwhelming noise of the arcade. “Damn it,” she cursed again. “We were so close.”

Vik and Jorgan leaned against a couple of racing machines, both with arms crossed, looking far too similar for comfort. Two runts scampered between Fynta and Cormac to climb into the vacated domes to try their luck.

“Look on the bright side,” Cormac began as they exited into the shopping complex. “We’ve got three more days of leave. There’s always tomorrow.”

“Not a chance in hell,” Vik spat. “There’s a piece of ass out there with my name stamped on it. Later, losers.”

Fynta stuck her tongue out at the retreating Weequay before cupping her hands. “Be nice, Vik.” She paused for effect. “And tip her well!” Her efforts were rewarded when Vik flashed a rude hand signal over his shoulder. Fynta felt much better.

“As much as I hate to leave you to pout alone, boss. I promised Elara that I wouldn’t play games all day.” Cormac offered a sympathetic smile and a slap on Fynta’s back that stumbled her forward. “You two stay out of trouble.”

Fynta kicked at Cormac before starting in the opposite direction with Jorgan. They walked in silence while she fumed over the stolen victory. “Would shooting something make you feel better?” The Cathar asked with an undeniable twitch of lips.

“Twenty-seven fierfeking points, Aric.” Fynta threw her hands up. “That’s all that stood between me and the high score.” Jorgan’s smile grew, but not enough to show teeth, he rarely did that in public. “Yes,” Fynta finally admitted. “Shooting something sounds great.”

Jorgan’s low chuckle send a chill up Fynta’s spine, and she slid a lustful gaze his way. “Maybe you can help me unwind afterward?”

They had to be careful this close to base. No doubt their fraternization would be noticed. Aric’s response was a heated look that promised a full night and late morning. When he spoke, it was in a husky tone no louder than a whisper. “You’ve got a deal.”


	8. Long Hours (Aric Jorgan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aric Jorgan is faced with the longest hours of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Word Count: 573  
This was written for the Prompt "Someone’s greatest fear." and turned into a sequel of this prompt from the December Writing Challenge.  
(https://cinlat.tumblr.com/post/168338760628/dec-08-facing-something-theyre-afraid-of)

**Rated: G**

* * *

Aric paced the cramped room while waiting to hear news of his wife. Dorne was the only one allowed beyond the doors that separated the medcenter staff from those doomed to wait out hours of uncertainty. She’d gone back to check on their progress--Jorgan glanced at the wall chrono--thirty-two minutes ago, and hadn’t returned. In his mind, that usually signaled a problem.

For the last twelve hours, Aric had rehashed his and Fynta’s conversation from the night before. She had shown true fear for the first time since he’d met her, not even bothering to put the usual effort into hiding her emotions. Jorgan stopped as his gut knotted to the point of nausea. Fynta was afraid, and he’d pushed her into having this surgery anyway.

Jorgan cursed foul enough to gain Cormac’s attention. The big man set aside his holomag when Aric dropped into the chair across from him and buried his face in his hands. The cracked leather squeaked when Cormac leaned forward. “Want to talk about it?”

Jorgan shook his head, but when he opened his mouth to tell Cormac no, the wrong words spilled out. “I shouldn’t have pushed her.”

Balic shifted again, but Jorgan didn’t look from behind the safety of his fingers; couldn’t meet the other man’s eyes. After a few more seconds of silence, Cormac released a strained chuckle. “You of all people know that no one can force the boss into doing something she doesn’t want to.”

When Aric looked up, Cormac’s expression matched his tone. “All you did was remind Fynta of what she needed to do. If you’d really have forced her into that operating room, a hell of a lot more sedative would have been involved, and you’d probably be on the next table.”

Jorgan let Balic’s words sink in, nodding in appreciation when his pulse finally returned to a healthy rate. The man was right, Fynta would have been miserable at a desk job; they all knew it. A sedentary lifestyle would kill her spirit, which Jorgan wouldn’t allow. His woman was made for the battlefield. Better to take care of her leg now, when she had a family to prop her up.

Still, Aric wondered if Fynta would hate him during the recovery for voicing such a strong opinion about a situation that wasn’t his to bear? Before he could begin fretting again, Balic’s large palm attached itself to the top of Jorgan’s head. “Stop it,” the big man said with a light shake. “She’s going to be fine. _You’re _going to be fine.”

The door opened to reveal Elara, and Jorgan shot to his feet. He couldn’t get the words out, so simply stared at her in a desperate need to know if his wife was okay. “Apologies,” she began, wiping already clean hands on her pant legs. “I was rerouted for a shuttle incident, they were short-handed.” Aric nodded and swallowed past the lump in his throat. Did that mean she hadn’t been able to look in on Fynta?

Dorne crossed the room and laid a hand on Jorgan’s shoulder. “She's doing well, surprisingly accommodating while unconscious.” Aric wanted to smile at Dorne’s attempt to comfort him, but it felt more like a snarl. Elara pretended not to notice and squeezed his arm. “The surgeon's estimate another six hours, and she’ll be finished.” The Cathar let out a ragged breath, and Elara’s eyes softened. “Soon, sir. Very soon.”


	9. Cold Blooded (Aric Jorgan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aric Jorgan must face the fact that his new squadmate might become a liability in the future

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt from Tishina on Ao3 (Look her up!): "The problem is, you keep thinking that I'm a good person."  
Word Count: 428
> 
> This is actually an excerpt from a chapter that didn't make the edit in Family is More Than Blood, where Jorgan, a loyal soldier, is forced to work with a woman whom he barely knows, and maybe even scares him a little. haha

Rated: T

* * *

**Taris**  
**En route to Command Base**

_You’re in no position to bargain. _Fynta’s words, delivered with a coldness that Jorgan had only heard from Imperials, echoed in his mind. Thorus had railed against her treatment until Fynta smacked him in the mouth with the butt of her rifle. He’d grown sullen then, eyes wide with panic.

Jorgan learned through her interrogation that Fynta had a way of getting quieter the closer to she was to violence. It had an unnerving effect, one he wasn't immune. Jorgan remembered the whine of Fynta’s rifle when she squeezed the trigger almost to the point of discharge. Thorus caved then, falling to his knees to divulge all he knew about Needle’s whereabouts and the forme Havoc medic’s plans on taris. Fynta’s expression never softened, and Jorgan wondered if he was seeing the agent from Epoch, instead of the feisty soldier he’d just started to respect.  
  
When Thorus swore that he’d told them all he knew, Jorgan expected Fynta to let the man go like she had those prisoners on Coruscant. The fur on the back of his neck still stood on end when he recalled the smell of ozone in the cramped room, and the sickening thud of Thorus’s body striking the floor.

Jorgan realized that, he’d never been so close to a kill before. The experience differed from watching a target fall through a scope. Yet, Fynta remained unperturbed. She stalked forward, kicked the body, then gave the order to move out; never once looking back.

Jorgan couldn’t get the images out of his head. Even an hour later, the dead look in Fynta’s eyes still haunted him. Jorgan didn’t understand how a woman who laughed so easily could kill in cold blood with no visible remorse. At the suggestion of a former Imperial, at that.

Countless times on the way back to Olaris, Jorgan opened his mouth to ask if Fynta was alright, and everytime he snapped it shut. She’d already answered his question days earlier when Jorgan accused her of cheating at Sabacc. “The problem is,” she’d teased, winking over another winning hand. “You keep thinking that I’m a good person. So, you play like a respectable soldier.” Fynta had leaned forward and lowered her voice, eyes alight with mischief. “I'll do whatever it takes to win.”

Jorgan had thought that Fynta was only joking. But now, he began to wonder if that’s how she truly saw herself. Just one more thug in a galaxy of criminals. It left Jorgan with a heavy feeling in his gut, and a list of contingency plans to make.


	10. Refreshed (Fynta/Jorgan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The food fight on Hoth is done, and it's time to clean up. Jorgan grumbles about the mess until Fynta gives him something better to focus on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The food fight mentioned can be found in Family is More Than Blood: Chapter 34. This takes place towards the end of Fynta's recovery from losing her leg on Corellia, and the restrictions are beginning to wear on our poor Cathar.

**Rated: Explicit**

* * *

**Hoth  
** **Aurek Base Command Bunker**

Fynta turned the water in the commander’s room as hot as it would go. Given the overcrowded nature of the compound on Hoth, all commanding officers were forced to share a room with two beds crammed into it, regardless of gender. Which worked out perfectly for Fynta and Jorgan. They’d shoved the two bed together and slept quite comfortably.

“I still can’t believe you started a food fight in a Republic mess hall,” Jorgan groused from where he scrubbed his cheek and neck with a rag. He hadn’t been wrong about that goo being difficult to get out.

Fynta smirked behind his back, and the Cathar’s eyes found her in the reflection of the mirror. “ _I _still can’t believe _you _shot everyone,” she countered.

Jorgan dropped the rag with a defeated snarl and rounded on Fynta. “Only because _you _started a food fight in the damn mess hall.” He didn’t raise his voice, but the emphasis was clear nonetheless.

The Cathar took a breath, then crossed his arms with a smirk. Fynta’s eyes were drawn to the ripple of muscle beneath fur, and Jorgan chuckled, flexing his biceps again. Aric wore a sleeveless undershirt and had already removed his pants to set aside for cleaning, leaving him in only his regulation shorts. His blatant attempt to distract Fynta from the quip worked.

“If I remember correctly,” the Cathar began, intentionally lowering the pitch of his voice. Heat bloomed under Fynta’s ribs, spreading through her torso. “You offered to help me clean this up.” He turned his head, gesturing at the matted mess she’d made of his fur. Fynta had to fight down the urge to run her tongue along the taut skin under his jaw.

_Shab _, Fynta swore inwardly. Desire hit the woman hard enough to make her lightheaded. Before she realized that she’d moved, Fynta had crossed the room to snatch Aric by the front of the shirt and crushed her mouth to his.

To Fynta’s delight, Jorgan responded in kind. He’d been stubbornly resolute about waiting until she was ready, claiming her healing was more important than fleeting pleasures. Now, his hand slid down her back, pulling her close enough to feel the extent of his own arousal. The Cathar rumbled a deep growl when she bit his lip, then pulled back. Aric’s eyes glowed, and his chest heaved against her own. “This is a bad idea.”

The husky sound of his voice sent a shiver through Fynta. Wrapping one hand around the back of her husband’s neck, she let the other slide down his stomach to fondle him through his shorts. Aric sucked in a slow, deliberate breath and closed his eyes. “Fynta.” The need in the Cathar’s voice when he breathed her name made everything else irrelevant.

Fynta stepped away to pull her shirt over her head. When the fabric cleared, she found Jorgan staring at her. His expression darkened, and while Fynta could see the argument forming in his eyes, his lips stayed sealed. He continued to observe while Fynta worked the fasteners on her pants, hesitating briefly before ridding herself of them. It was stupid to be self-conscious in his presence. Jorgan had seen Fynta at her worst and stuck around. His eyes traveled over her body, gliding past her fake leg with practiced ease.

“I did promise,” Fynta exhaled, barely able to control the shakiness in her own voice. “I think a shower is the best recourse, don’t you?” After all, the water was already running, it would be wasteful to ignore it.

Aric’s gaze snapped back to her face. “Absolutely.” The Cathar stripped off his shirt and shorts as he followed her into the refresher.

Steam filled the room, making the air thick and heady. Jorgan wrapped one arm around Fynta’s waist to pull her against his chest, his natural musk overpowering in the humidity. It did interesting things to her heart rate. The muscles in his forearm tightened when she brushed her fingers over them. He took measured breaths next to her ear, pushing her hair out of the way while he ran his rough tongue along her neck. This time, Fynta didn’t fight the moan that escaped her lips.

“Aric.”

“Hm?” The Cathar responded, though it was clear that his brain had switched off.

Fynta pulled against his hold, dragging him towards the shower. “We need to get you cleaned up, remember?”

Jorgan relented enough to allow Fynta to step into the stall, then followed. Before she could make a move, her back pressed against the cool tile, and his mouth covered hers. Aric kissed her with consuming passion, making it clear that he’d reached the end of his patience. While Fynta knew her husband would never harm her, the Cathar wasn’t being gentle. His hand gripped her good hip, fingers digging into the skin, while the other wrapped around the back of her neck. Jorgan held Fynta’s head still so that he could nip at her lip, having mastered the art of keeping his teeth from drawing blood, but the pressure he used came close. Not that Fynta was complaining.

When Aric broke the kiss, he rested his forehead against Fynta’s. “You need to tell me to stop.” The Cathar’s voice shook from the strain of denying himself the release he clearly needed. Fynta had no intention doing anything of the sort, and pressed her pelvis against him. He sucked in a breath and smothered her with another brutal kiss. She felt the hard line of his arousal pushing into her stomach and smiled against his lips. The idea that carefully controlled Aric Jorgan could be reduced to animalistic grunts rekindled a spark that Fynta had worried would be gone forever. She broke their kiss with a gasp, rubbing her thighs together while his teeth left a tingling trail from her lips to her shoulder.

“I have a better idea,” Fynta whispered. Slowly, the major let her hands glide down his body, over his sides, and around his hips. Tight cords of sinew, made more prominent by his slicked fur, flexed under her fingers. Jorgan leaned away from Fynta, watching the path her hands took, his breathing accelerated when she slid them lower.

Fynta paused, fingers poised over her husband’s painfully hard cock. When she flicked her gaze to his face, Jorgan’s eyes blazed with need. Fynta watched, mesmerized by the way the water from the shower ran in streaks over his face, adding to the lines and patterns that she enjoyed studying.

Jorgan remained intent on Fynta’s progress as she wrapped her fingers around him. His eyes fluttered shut, and he let out a low groan. Aric leaned into her grip, flattening his palm against the wall over her shoulder for support. A violent shudder ran through the Cathar, splashing water across her face.

Fynta set a slow pace at first, gentle enough for her to feel every texture and detail of her husband’s body. Aric released her neck to lay his hand over hers, encouraging her to move faster. Fynta angled her face so that she could see his expression as he watched their hands glide together, his breath coming faster. “Impatient, are we?” She teased, then deliberately loosened her hold.

“Yes,” Aric gasped, squeezing his hand around hers, trapping Fynta’s fingers between his iron grip, and the pulsing rigidity in her palm.

“I’m not finished with you yet, _Captain_,” Fynta purred, throwing the familiar line back at him. The Cathar’s gaze darted to hers, and she grinned in the face of his carnal snarl.

Suddenly, Jorgan’s expression shifted from scowl, to coy grin. He released her and slid his hand between her legs. Fynta yelped at his touch. “Then I’m not either,” he husked, slipping one long finger into her.

It had been so long since Aric had touched her that Fynta momentarily saw stars. His strangled chuckle caused her to open the eyes that she didn’t remember closing. He shifted, adding another finger and pushing deeper. “Fierfek,” Fynta hissed, digging the nails of her free hand into his shoulder. “You’re fighting dirty.”

“Then fight back.” Jorgan’s breath warmed Fynta’s face. She had nearly forgotten about the water until the cool spray misted her overheated skin. “Better make it fast,” he murmured, hooking his fingers inside her.

Being so focused on what her husband was doing, Fynta had almost forgotten that she’d started this with him in mind. She tightened her grip around him and sped up. Jorgan matched her place, breathing heavily through flared nostrils. While Fynta lingered on his face, his eyes remained on their hands.

Fynta changed rhythm when his brows pulled together and his lips parted. It was difficult to focus on pleasing him when he hadn’t let up on his own ministrations, but she knew exactly what he liked. Heat burned through her core, and she didn’t care that she was panting. Jorgan repositioned his hand to rub his thumb over the sensitive bundle of nerves with each thrust of his fingers. Fynta knocked her head against the wall, moaning loudly.

Aric leaned closer, bracing his elbow over her shoulder so that he could cover Fynta’s mouth with his free hand. She met his gaze and nodded. It wouldn't do for them to be interrupted by a concerned neighbor now. Sliding her hand faster, she circled her thumb over his head with each stroke. Jorgan bared his teeth, but he never faltered.

Fynta knew the pressure inside her would have to overflow soon or she’d go mad. Rolling her hips, she finally found her release. She cried out against Aric’s hand, sinking her teeth into the fleshy portion of his palm. Jorgan’s hips thrust forward with enough force to shove Fynta back into the wall. He snarled, eyes squeezed shut, as he spilled over her hand and stomach.

After a few minutes to catch their breath, Jorgan leaned forward to press his head against the tile, letting his hand fall away from Fynta’s mouth. “Damn,” he choked. “I didn’t realize how badly I needed that.”

Fynta closed her eyes and sighed, feeling warm all over as he rested his weight against her. She pulled her hand from between them, letting the now lukewarm water wash away the evidence. Likewise, Aric removed his fingers, leaving Fynta feeling pleasantly stretched.

Finally, Jorgan pushed away from her and ran a hand over his face. Then, he started laughing. “Guess it’s another cold shower.” The playful glint in his eye, along with the insinuation that he had taken quite a few of those over the last few months, had Fynta laughing too.

Reaching over, Fynta grabbed the soap and a rag. She lathered it up, then gently hooked her thumb and forefinger under Aric’s jaw to turn it. “I can always pull my hair into a tighter braid, but we should take care of this before it gets _too _cold.” Jorgan relented as Fynta began scrubbing at the food caked into his fur. A gentle vibration resonated under Fynta’s fingertips, and she smiled. The major had learned long ago not to accuse the Cathar of purring, but that didn’t detract from the pleasure she felt at knowing she could produce such an affect on him.

Fynta lifted her lips to kiss the hollow of Aric’s throat, her way of showing how much she loved him. The two of them may not be good at expressing such emotions in words, but Fynta had no doubt how he felt when his hand rested on her hip. She was pretty sure Jorgan knew too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apparently wrote this for a request, and even had it beta'd, over a year ago and never posted. So fixing that now. I can't remember who asked for it, so hope that person stumbles across it at some point.


	11. Distractions (Fynta/Jorgan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The tables have turned and Fynta finds herself in Jorgan's sights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is set after their first kiss, but before the infamous “R&R” scene. It was a Tumblr request from Dingoat for "When One Person’s Face Is Scrunched Up, And The Other One Kisses Their Lips/Nose/Forehead." from a Kiss Prompt List.
> 
> Word Count: 687

Jorgan stood in the doorway, a smirk permanently fixed to his lips while Fynta snarled at the datapad in her hands. She was on her bed, legs crossed in that way females had while stabbing the screen with so much force that he heard her nails clack against it. “Need help?”

Fynta’s dark blue eyes burned with an intense fury that stole Jorgan’s breath when she looked up. He shouldn’t be drawn to this woman. She was his commanding officer and a Mandalorian, two things that should send him running for the door, not sliding it closed behind him so that they wouldn’t be disturbed. 

Sighing, Fynta dropped the datapad and rubbed her temples. “Fierfeking inventory requisitions forms.” She waved a hand at it with a snort, lip curling in an impressive display of disgust. “Elara should be brought up on a charge for making it look so easy.”

Jorgan lifted a brow and held out his hand. Fynta gestured for him to sit, and Aric slid onto the mattress with more ease than he should feel. It was difficult to put his relationship with Fynta into words. Unwise, probably. Unsanctioned, definitely, but that hadn’t stopped their first kiss or the ones that followed. Jorgan admitted that he’d started down a slippery slope without looking back and no idea where it would lead. 

Picking up the discarded datapad, Jorgan swiped through the forms still needing completeion and shook his head. “You haven’t made much progress.” He left it unsaid that she’d been working for two hours. 

Fynta punched Aric’s shoulder with a mocking quip before snatching the device. “If you’re not going to help then sit there and look enticing.”

Jorgan chuckled, leaning back against the headboard to lace his fingers behind his head. It was strange to feel so comfortable with a woman. In past relationships, he’d kept work and his love life separate, never allowing one to bleed into the other. It had led to quiet evenings and stalled conversations. 

Minutes passed before Fynta’s eyes narrowed at the screen. “I said enticing, not distracting.” Though she didn’t look at him, Jorgan knew he had her complete attention. He arched his back in a stretch the way he knew she enjoyed.

“Aren’t they the same?” Jorgan folded his arms, enjoying the way Fynta’s brow furrowed while she forced her gaze to remain on the datapad. 

It was late enough that the rest of the squad had turned in, leaving them in peaceful solitude without her room. A wave of uncharacteristic giddiness swept through Jorgan, prompting him to lean close enough to hear Fynta swallow. “Am I distracting you?”

“Of course not,” Fynta snapped, though the deep lines creasing her forehead and force with which her lips pressed together said otherwise. 

Aric let a low rumble roll through him as he shifted closer. Fynta shivered but refused to look up. He enjoyed her reaction more than he should, the knowledge that his primal nature didn’t frighten her the way it had his previous partners; Fynta wanted more.

“How about now?” Jorgan asked, pressing a kiss to Fynta’s cheek. She sucked in a breath, eyes widening and almost darting in his direction. Jorgan pushed on, brushing his lips against her ear. Fynta’s chest rose and fell faster as he followed her hairline to press another gentle kiss to the crease in her forehead. Fynta sighed, eyes drifting closed. “Distracted yet?” 

“I’m not that easy,” Fynta growled through a shaky voice and rigid posture.

Jorgan failed to hide his amusement, letting his mouth curve into a smile while he trailed kisses down the bridge of Fynta’s nose. He paused to breathe in her scent, their lips inches apart. “You’re sure?”

“Fierfek.” Something clattered to the floor at the same time that Jorgan’s back hit the mattress. He laughed into Fynta’s mouth when she pinned his hands above his head, her weight centered on his stomach. “This doesn’t mean that you win,” Fynta grumbled in between playful nips and stolen licks.

Jorgan couldn’t answer with Fynta’s tongue in his mouth, and he preferred that to sorting inventory requisition forms, anyway. 


	12. In the Quiet Hours (Cormac/Elara)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family time is something that Balic Cormac doesn't get often, and he doesn't want to waste a second of it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiss List Prompt from Kierra. "Balic and Elara, Height Difference Kisses Where One Person Has To Bend Do Wn And The Other Is On Their Tippy Toes - because you gave me all the feels and I NEED more."
> 
> Word Count: 616  
Timeline: During Fynta’s Carbonite Nap

**Coruscant  
****Residential Sector  
****Apartment 7865**

Cormac took a deep breath, savoring the moment of silent peace that would end in the morning. He’d made it home for Tayl’s first birthday and owned Jorgan a bottle of that Corellian whiskey he loved so much for fudging the paperwork to get them through debriefs in record time. After losing Fynta, the grumpy Cathar was hell-bent on making sure that Balic missed as little of his son’s life as possible. It was the only good thing to come from their situation.

Tayl slept peacefully, angular features illuminated by the glow of his mobile. Xaban had helped Cormac build it from spare bits they found lying around the Thunderclap. It was nice having another person to tinker with. Helping to ease the sting of Vik’s desertion. Balic missed the Weequay bastard and tried to understand why he’d done it. 

Movement dragged Cormac from his nostalgia and he smiled when Tayl rolled onto his back, small arms flung above his head. Kids slept in the weirdest positions, but so long as his son was content, Cormac wouldn’t disturb him. A small coo from the crib marked the moment when Tayl settled back into sleep. 

A hand touched Balic’s arm. His eyes drifted shut, focusing on that single point of contact. Elara didn’t ask why he was out of bed, she didn’t have to. Cormac’s arms opened to admit his wife, then folded around her shoulders so that he could rock them side to side. Elara’s back pressed against Balic’s chest and stomach, creating a perfect moment of serenity. 

They stood like that for an immeasurable amount of time, enjoying being in each other’s arms and the security of Tayl sleeping within reach. Finally, Elara yawned. “Come to bed.”

Cormac let Elara turn in his arms to face him, but he couldn’t take his eyes off their son. Her cool hand rested on his cheek. “You can’t report to the Thunderclap dead on your feet.” When Cormac didn’t respond, Elara took a defiant breath. “Shall I recite the health hazards of rushing into combat fatigued? Because I will.”

Before Elara could get the first warning out, Cormac chuckled and put a finger over her lips. “You win, doll. Lead the way.”

Grey eyes filled with sadness despite Elara’s bright smile. They both knew that it would be months before Balic saw them in person again. She didn’t want to pull him away any more than he wanted to leave, but would do her duty. His health was forefront in her mind, always.

Elara added her other hand to Cormac’s face, tilting it down to gain his full attention. “I love you.” It felt like a goodbye; Balic hated those. He didn’t want to start the grieving process ahead of schedule so answered the only way he knew how.

One of Cormac’s hands was large enough to cradle the back of Elara’s head. He kissed her forehead, free hand sliding down her spine to urge his wife onto her toes so that he could kiss the only woman to hold his heart. It was an awkward angle given that she barely reached his chest, but Balic would take the shoulder strain if it meant feeling her warm lips against his. 

Elara’s hand settled on the one caressing her cheek and their fingers intertwined. “It’s not quite midnight,” she whispered into Cormac’s mouth. He pulled back, catching the new shine in her eyes and smiled. Elara bit her bottom lip and looked towards their room. “Perhaps some relaxation exercises first?”

Cormac’s arm stretched between them as Elara pulled him down the hall. With one last look at his son, Balic surrendered with a sad laugh. “I’m all yours, doll.”


	13. OC Kiss Week 2020 (Balic/Elara)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cormac is settling in for a quiet night at home with his wife, but Elara has other plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Kitchen  
Word Count: 423

Cormac shook the pan, inhaling the heavenly smells of a home cooked meal. He had four days of leave with Elara. Four days with the comms off and no one the wiser about where they were. Balic had considered purchasing a place of their own, but it would be too easy to find them. He liked having the ability to fall off the map with his wife. 

“That smells wonderful,” Elara called from the door. She dropped a bag that hopefully contained some sort of alcohol on the small island. “What is it?”

“One of Fynta’s recipes.” Cormac grinned over his shoulder while poking at a couple of stubborn vegetables. 

Elara grimaced as she unloaded a bottle of white wine and another of something harder for him. “Then you don’t expect to have dinner with your wife this evening?” There was a playful note in the reminder that she hated spicy food.

Cormac leaned over to kiss the top of his wife's head. “I left most of that out. It’s no longer a Mandalorian dish. Completely Elara friendly.”

“Are you having a go at me?” Elara asked with a light backhand to his ribs. Cormac grunted from the surprise strike and laughed.

“Wouldn’t dream of it, doll.” Balic shook the pan again, lamenting its lack of spices but preferring an enjoyable evening. 

Elara popped his ass, earning another startled yelp. “Someone’s feisty today,” Cormac teased, wiggling his rump in invitation for more. 

Pale grey eyes rolled, but Elara laughed as she hopped onto the counter beside Balic. “My attempts at distracting you are failing, I fear. On to plan B.”

There was a method to their flirting. Cormac would say something witty, maybe make a subtly veiled comment about what he wanted to do, and Elara would respond with acceptance or a gentle rebuff. Her instigating was refreshing.

Setting the cooking utensils aside, Cormac slid the pan off the eye and turned off the flame. “No, no. I could be distracted.” He stepped between Elara's parted knees and settled both hands on her thighs. “Did you have something in mind?”

With Elara perched on the counter, her new position negated the height difference that so often caused them trouble. Leaning forward, she wrapped delicate hands around the back of Balic's neck and tugged him into a passionate kiss. When Elara released him, it was to offer a peek at the vixen she kept stuffed down. 

Cormac let out a long breath, losing himself in the heat of Elara's gaze. “I’m definitely distracted now.”


	14. Falling (Fynta/Jorgan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jorgan sees what's happening long before Fynta.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kiss Week 2020  
Prompt: Beginning  
Word count: 559

He was falling in love.

Aric inhaled along the shoulder of a woman who should be off-limits. His rough tongue coaxed noises from her that he'd never heard before. They were opposites, but he couldn’t say no to this pull.

Fynta’s lips moved against Aric’s neck, nibbling at his pulse point and dragging a choaked growl from him. She moved to his ears, nipped at the pointed tips until his breath came in ragged gasps.

A light chuckle, low and husky, tickled the sensitive parts of Aric's ear. Fynta thought it was only arousal. She had no idea the metamorphosis that was taking place within him, opening his eyes to traditions and possibilities that Aric had never considered worth the effort.

For years, Aric's life had been duty and responsibility. Jorgan the soldier wouldn't allow his feelings for subordinates to venture beyond fair minded or extend past respect for his superiors. Then, Fynta had crashed into his life and turned it upside down. Not only upside down, but she'd also made him face parts of himself that Aric didn't know existed. She made him better in every sense of the word. He was a harder soldier, warmer confidant, and a better man.

Her nails scraped his scalp, eliciting a purr that Aric would never admit to. She chuckled again, nibbling his bottom lip and shifting her weight in his lap until the pressure was perfect. Aric wanted to ask how she did that but had seen too many glimpses of her past to brave the answer. He'd let Fynta keep her secrets and reap the rewards from it.

Fire. That’s what Fynta reminded him of.

The thought came unbidden when her nails scored his back. Fynta was the cleansing flame that holy men spoke of, burning out the dull corruption of politics that could have so easily become Aric’s career. She'd taken a bitter man and breathed new life into him.

Fynta pulled back, her face flush and eyes sparkling. Aric lost himself in a deep blue sea that could destroy him as easily as carry him to safety. Love was a strange phenomenon that allowed him to stare into the face of a blood enemy and see only the heart at her center of everything she did. Fynta was rough and loud, brash and reckless, and he wouldn’t change anything about her.

I love you. The words were on his lips, so close to the surface that Aric could taste them. Fynta grinned. “Have I worn you out, Lieutenant?”

Too soon, he realized. While Fynta had Aric’s heart, he couldn’t be sure of hers yet. “Never,” he growled, throwing her onto the bed and delighting in her laughter.

This was the start of the rest of his life. Aric had chosen his mate. No matter Fynta’s decision, there would never be another woman for him. The thought was freeing. He’d expected dread and the fear of eternal loneliness to consume him but there was a certain peace in knowing where his future would go. Only two paths lay open to him now. One with Fynta, the other without her. He'd ask for her choice when the time was right. Aric was certain that he'd know and trusted that instinct.

For now, Aric would enjoy these stolen moments and bask in the knowledge that for now, she was his.


	15. End is the Beginning (Fynta/Jorgan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fynta chooses to leave fear behind and forge ahead with her future.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OC Kiss Week 2020
> 
> Prompt: End (bookending the Beginning prompt)  
Word Count: 688

Married. _Fierfek_. Love? That wasn’t her. Fynta had felt so confident the night before. She stared into Aric’s pleading gaze and saw a future that she’d wanted so bad that it hurt.

Aric looked at Fynta from where he sat on the end of the bed, a smile lighting his features the likes of which she’d never seen. Those patterns of dots and stripes lining his face pulled into what his parents must have seen in a mischievous toddler who scratched the curtains. Lightyears from the fierce glower Fynta had met on Ord Mantell. He looked happy, stupidly, completely, happy. She’d done that. 

_Fierfek_. With just a few words, Fynta had turned the grumpy Aric Jorgan into a grinning idiot. That was something to be proud of, right? Then why was her heart pounding and throat so tight?

Aric’s smile slipped, head tilting in that infuriating way he had when he looked straight through her. When did Fynta become so transparent? She could plaster on a smile to fool the best spy, but Aric always knew. 

_Fierfek_. Fynta was in over her head, so deep that she’d drown. The shadows that had protected her for years were melting away. She felt exposed, raw and vibrating with nervous energy.

“Need a minute?” Aric’s question broke something inside Fynta. He didn’t move to touch her. Just sat on the bed watching, afraid to move lest she panic and run like the scared little thing that she was. 

Fynta shook her head. Another lie that Aric’s tightened lips exposed. Her heartfelt like it would burst from her chest, ribs contracting until they’d break and suffocate her. Permanence closed in from all sides. She’d done it, taken the final step that would tie them together for the rest of their lives. 

Find a man you’d tear the galaxy apart for, but who would never ask you to. 

Her mother’s words echoed that same as they had last night. Fynta breathed, assuring herself that she’d done that. It was why she’d said yes when Aric proposed because there wasn’t a better man in this galaxy than the Cathar who quietly laced up his boots while pretending not to notice her moment of weakness.

_Fierfek_. This time, the word had new meaning. Fynta smiled at the memory of his stumbling words and nervous chuckles. He was in over his head too. A Cathar who’d bound himself to a Mandalorian. That took gett'se.

Fynta squared her shoulders. She was done with the fear that kept everyone at arm’s length. Well, maybe just this one person for now.

Aric saw everything in Fynta that she wanted to be. She wasn’t the terrified girl running from the Black Sun, but a soldier who took on Sith. The SIS no longer commanded who she killed, slept with, rescued, or abandoned. She was a Captain in the Galactic Army of the Republic who didn’t leave men behind. Aric saw a leader, someone worthy of his respect and loyalty. It was time that Fynta saw it in herself.

“How about breakfast?” A weight lifted from Fynta’s heart, allowing her to breathe for the first time. She’d spent so much time living in her own past despite claiming that it wasn’t the Mandalorian way. It was time to put it all behind her and trust this man to lead her into an uncertain future.

Aric stood, crossing the room to loop his arms around her. “You sure?”

Fynta smiled, fingers curling in his shirt to pull him into a kiss. All of her emotions flowed through that one point of contact. Let it tear down the walls that she’d spent a lifetime building. When they broke apart, Fynta could tell by the grin on Aric’s face that he understood. 

No more fearing the future, she’d live to make her husband proud. Fynta grinned. “I’ve got dibs on the perfect man and I’m closing in on my nemesis. Life is great.”

Aric laughed and pulled Fynta close, forming their bodies together. She wanted to revisit this night when everything calmed down, give him a proper honeymoon. 

First, they needed to survive Corellia.


	16. Unexpected Advances (Balic/Elara)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Even though they haven't known each other long, Balic Cormac can't deny being drawn to Havoc Squad medic Elara Dorne. When he makes his move, he's isn't prepared for the proper ex-Imperial's reaction.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, this fic slipped through the cracks when I was transferring everything into a single story. I found it in my old Fanfiction account that I'm considering reviving.
> 
> A little one shot requested by a friend who wanted more on Balic Cormac and Elara Dorne's first kiss. It's four years old and I have not re-edited it, but I wanted to make sure it made it into this collection anyway.

**The Thunderclap  
** **Outskirts of Imperial Space**

Balic Cormac sat in the immaculately clean medbay, chin propped in his hand while he leaned on one of the medtables, and watched Elara calibrate one of the machines. He'd spent more time in here over the last few weeks than any other part of the ship. Her patience with his continuous questions only encouraged him to learn more and he liked the way she laughed at his jokes. The Havoc squad medic wasn't Balic's usual type, he tended towards the rambunctious go getters. The ones who caused injuries instead of healed them. Like the lieutenant, however, she was clearly off limits judging by what he'd walked in on during his first day aboard the ship. Not that it mattered, because he thought Elara Dorne was the most fascinating woman in the galaxy.

Today they were both lounging in their fatigues. Now that Cormac was comfortable with his new armor, he didn't feel the need to keep it on all the time. Elara had thrown aside her jacket when the sleeves proved too bulky for the tight space she was working in, leaving her in the black shirt that proved she had some fine muscular tone. Cormac had held the discarded article of clothing up to his body, much like Elara had his plates while he was being fitted for the beskar'gam, earning him a light giggle from the little medic. Her jacket would probably zip around his bicep, maybe a thigh. Now, however, Elara was on her hands and knees with her arm shoved into the innards of a piece of medical equipment that had been irritating her for days. Not that Balic minded the view, but she'd been at it for three hours.

"Bugger," she hissed, shaking her hand out before popping a finger into her mouth. The tool she'd been using must have slipped again. Cormac did his best to hide his amusement. Elara didn't swear often, when she did, it was usually so soft that it escaped notice. Or she cursed in another language. That one, however, was one of his which meant he was rubbing off on her too.

"You alright, doll?" Cormac had taken to calling her that a week or so ago, the description suited Elara too perfectly to ignore. She was petite with porcelain skin, big, bright eyes, and a sweet demeanor that made Cormac instantly protective of her.

Elara nodded and pulled the finger free to examine the damage before letting her rigid shoulders sag a bit. "It's tedious work, fine tuning the equipment, but I need it functioning at peak efficiency before we face Tavus."

Cormac stood and leaned over where she was knelt, trying to see into the small hole Elara had snatched her hand from. "Anything I can do to help?" He knew it was a stupid question, but if there was the slightest chance of easing her burden, he'd take it. The woman had an unending wealth of energy when it came to making things run smoothly. More than once, Cormac had fallen asleep propped on one of the medtables while Elara worked into the night. Jorgan would always ask about Cormac's absence, then nod when Balic admitted to falling asleep in the medbay.

He got the impression that while they treated Elara like family. Fynta and Jorgan didn't always understand their ex-imperial sister. Cormac, on the other hand, had realized early on that Elara was acutely aware of the way people looked at her when she spoke and would immediately revise her explanation if it appeared that they weren't following. Then, there were times when she would just chatter on, completely engrossed with whatever she was reading and Cormac would just smile at her because she was just too adorable not to.

Giving his knee a gentle nudge to let him know she wanted to stand, Elara smiled endearingly up at him. "I appreciate it, but I don't think your hands will fit." She held her own up as an example and Cormac followed her lead, placing his palm against hers. Elara's fingertips barely brushed the inside of his second knuckle and Cormac couldn't help but grin. The woman was so damn tiny and she seemed to find his bulkiness just as interesting, having asked a ton of questions about his lineage. Unfortunately, Cormac couldn't go back very far, but Elara was sure there had to be more than basic human in his DNA. It all reminded him about that conversation in the briefing room and he'd declined the blood test to find out for sure. Cormac was perfectly fine not knowing.

Elara dropped her hand and turned back to sigh at the troublesome machine. "Perhaps I just need to take a break."

Cormac latched onto the idea with abandon. "How about some food, you can tell me what it's supposed to do." He'd learned that if there was anything that could take Elara's mind off her troubles, it was having a student to teach.

True to form, the woman smiled back up at him in earnest and Cormac felt his heart leap into his throat. She really was beautiful, the kind you just couldn't miss when her face lit up like that. Neither had widened the limited space between them and Cormac was overcome with the desire to act. He hadn't planned on kissing Elara, but it sounded like a fantastic idea.

Years of experience chasing girls failed Cormac in that moment. Instead of the suave approach he saw him his mind, Cormac's hands were trembling as he lowered his head to quickly brush his lips across hers. Elara's reaction was instantaneous and stung deeply as she gasped and took a step away from him. "Balic," her voice trailed off as she touched dainty fingers to her lips.

Raising a hand to rub the back of his neck, Cormac stared at his feet. "Sorry, I probably should have asked fir-" He risked glancing up to meet her eyes and his apology died on his lips. Elara was studying him, her thin brows furrowed as some internal battle warred and Cormac was worried that if he spoke, he'd scare her towards the wrong conclusion. Last time he'd seen that look she had been trying deciding which article to send into some science magazine for publishing.

Balic knew Elara had come to a decision when she cut her eyes up at him, catching her lower lip between her teeth while giving him a coy smile. His heart couldn't decide if it wanted to stop altogether or explode from his chest as she closed the gap between them. Cormac's reaction time was bloody pathetic, so Elara leapt up to wrap her arms around his neck, crushing her lips to his with a passion that, quite frankly, he never knew she possessed. His arms wrapped around her of their own accord, sliding one hand under her thighs to support her weight with ease. Enjoying the way Elara's body molded to his as she hooked her ankles behind his back and how her tongue rolled across his lips. The part of his brain that was still functioning properly decided that from now on, he was completely devoted to this woman.

When she pulled away, Cormac's head was spinning and he could feel the stupid grin on his face. "So, not mad?" Even though he was having trouble focusing on a single thought, he could feel her rapid breathing against his cheeks and wondered if his own sounded just as unsteady.

A wicked smile pulled at Elara's lips in response and Cormac began to see how sorely he had underestimated this woman. There was a vixen beneath all that sweet and suddenly, Cormac's new life's goal was to set it free.


	17. Hair Raising (Fynta & Cormac)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A moment of laziness turns into a playful wrestling match

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I found another one that I don't think is in this collection. So I'll throw it in here too. This came from a conversation with Dimigex about men’s reactions to women’s messy hair. While I usually write in a perspective style, I couldn’t make up my mind who would be more fun, so chose to try my hand at narrative. I’m fairly pleased with how it turned out. 
> 
> Word Count: 839

**The Thunderclap**

Cormac glanced up from his holozine. He had settled into a chair across from Fynta’s room to indulge in a little light reading when movement distracted him. It took Cormac a moment to realize what was off about the Havoc commander, until the swaying above her head drew his attention.

Fynta stared down at the datapad in her hands, oblivious to Cormac’s prying gaze. It wasn’t until she’d seated herself across from the big man that she felt his eyes on her. Looking up through her lashes, Fynta faced the horrified expression that would have been comical were it not directed at her.

“What?” Fynta asked, wariness sneaking up her spine. She cast around the room for the source of Cormac’s distress, then back at him when nothing obvious jumped out at her.

Cormac stood with calculated slowness to take the seat beside Fynta’s. His eyes narrowed at the top of her head, then his index finger rose to jab at the pile of hair that she’d hurriedly situated there. Cormac hissed in mock terror. “What is this?” He asked, poking at her hair more.

Fynta slapped Cormac’s hands away, but he refused to be deterred. The big man reached around her defenses to fondle the mess of blonde strands on top of her head again. “It’s just hair,” she complained, swatting at his fat fingers. “You better stop before Jorgan or Dorne catches you.”

The threat fell on deaf ears as Cormac stood to get a better look at Fynta’s new style. He’d seen her hair down and in a long braid, but the man had no idea that it was capable of such height. “It wiggles,” he stated, chuckling when a light slap caused the whole knot to sway to one side before settling back into its original position. “How the hell does it do that?”

Fynta punched her best friend in the gut, not hard enough to do lasting damage, but with enough force to push him back. “For fierfek’s sake, doesn’t Elara throw her hair into a messy bun from time to time?” She’d done it in an effort to be lazy after showering, and a braid felt like too much work. Next time, she’d take the extra five minutes.

“Well, yeah,” Cormac answered, grinning like an idiot. “But, it never looks like _that_.” He waved a hand at the mass of tangles. Elara’s hair only reached her shoulders, not quite capable of the volume Fynta had managed. “That’s just cool.”

Cormac took another step, intent on aggravating the commander more, but Fynta dodged away. “No way, soldier. Hands off the do.” She dropped into a defensive crouch, dark blue eyes glittering in a challenge.

Cormac lunged, but Fynta skirted around the row of chairs to put a barrier between them. Cormac grinned, using his greater reach to pop the bun on top of Fynta’s head. He laughed when she growled in frustration, then let out a grunt when they both hit the floor. Fynta straddled Cormac’s stomach while he blocked her attempts get at his bald head.

Grabbing one of Fynta’s wrists, Cormac rolled them both to pin it by her side while protecting his groin from her knees. The violent movement caused strands of Fynta’s hair to break free of their bindings to scatter around her face. Fynta puffed out an annoyed breath, causing the wayward hair to billow into the air before settling into their original positions.

Cormac laughed so hard that he lost his grip and received a brutal slap to the ear for his mistake. Fynta kicked the big man off of her and shoved the now mostly scattered hair out of her face. “Had enough?” She asked with a playful snarl.

Fynta knew what that particular grin meant, and leapt out of the way in time to avoid being tackled. Her right foot wasn’t so lucky, and she stumbled into the holoterminal. With Cormac holding her by the toes, Fynta planted her metal foot in an effort to pull free. Cormac chose that moment to let go, and Fynta sprawled backward over the terminal to land with a grunt on the other side.

Cormac had just cleared the impromptu divider when Fynta threw herself at him again, slamming them both into a shelf containing dataspikes and other small equipment. The shelf came loose, raining electronic slicing gear onto their heads. Both soldiers groaned in defeat as running boots sounded from different directions.

Jorgan slid to a stop, gaping his wife and Cormac who sat in a tangle of limbs, surrounded by sensitive equipment that would probably need to be replaced. Elara appeared from the opposite side of the ship, her expression mirroring his. “What have you done?” She asked in breathless exasperation.

Cormac offered his wife a sheepish grin, before looking down to see what was left of Fynta’s top-knot right below his nose. He fluffed it playfully, proclaiming himself the winner with a victorious laugh. His humor faded to a grunt when Fynta’s fist connected with his ribs.


	18. "Never Do That Again" (Fynta/Jorgan)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When both are willing to lay their life down for the other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on this amazing commission piece from Dingoat.
> 
> Word Count: 534  
Rating: T

They reached one another at the same time, armor slamming together with a force that nearly toppled them over. The stench of singed fur still clung to Aric, but the strength of his arms around her assured Fynta that he was okay.

Fynta remembered the battle with painful clarity. She'd rushed onto the light bridge, drawing the Sith's attention so that Aric could get to a perch. She'd barely made it a handful of steps before growing lightheaded with inertia. Her body reacted before her mind understood, flailing to grasp anything solid to halt her plunge into the gorge below. When Fynta's fingers found purchase, it was on the edge of the bridge that she'd been standing on seconds earlier.

The Sith offered a gruff laugh, stalking forward with lightsaber poised for the kill. The hatred in those burning eyes, and the glee found in that madness was branded into Fynta's memory. Fynta's attempts to pull herself up proved to be in vain. Her armor had never weighed so much, further straining the tenuous hold Fynta had on the bridge.

A shadow fell over Fynta. She was out of time, gaze fixed on the angry blade inching towards her hands. The Sith could have kicked Fynta into the abyss, but she wanted a plaything. Fynta vowed to hold out for as long as she could, until every finger was severed if that's what her team needed to take their enemy down.

Imagined heat hovered above Fynta's left hand, and she braced for the pain to come. A flicker of movement in her peripheral jerked Fynta's head around. She'd barely registered the armor before Aric plowed into the Sith. He'd taken her by surprise, hitting her with enough speed that they skidded along the bridge for several feet in a tangle of limbs.

It didn't take long for the Sith to find her feet, and Aric's snarl of pain when lightning lept from her fingers echoed in Fynta's ears. She didn't remember shouting or the effort to pull herself to safety, only the frantic drive to reach the pair before Aric's armor couldn't shield him anymore.

The attack was a blur. Fynta's gauntlet slammed into the Sith's side, blade extended. The woman shrieked and toppled sideways, gasping through the hole Fynta had put in her lung. One hand extended, and Fynta's feet no longer found purchase. She hit the ground on her back, a spare ammo clip digging into her kidney with the landing.

A blaster discharged, and Fynta shoved upright to find Aric standing over the still figure with Fynta's Verpine in hand. She checked her holster to find it empty, then scrambled back to her feet. Aric's helmet lifted, then he moved too.

They reached one another at the same time, armor slamming together with a force that nearly toppled them over. The strength of Aric's arms around her assured Fynta that he was okay. He tucked her helmet beneath his chin and sighed. "Never do that again."


End file.
